


Breeze Drifting on By

by Theoroark



Series: Feeling Good [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 110 percent Intentional Symbolism, Body Horror, Coping, Dysfunctional Platonic Relationships, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Team Talon (Overwatch)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 18:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: It turned out that blackmailing one's boss with the specter of remembering and confronting every terrible thing that had happened to him and that he had done made work a little awkward.-A brotp follow-up to "Sleep In Peace When Day is Done"





	Breeze Drifting on By

It turned out that blackmailing one's boss with the specter of remembering and confronting every terrible thing that had happened to him and that he had done made work a little awkward. 

 

Sombra had thought– not quite hoped, but something like it– that Gabe would make himself forget their conversation too. He hadn't moved an inch to eliminate the threat she posed, and as careful as she had tried to be, she had given him openings. And he hadn't indicated that he was considering her offer, either. 

 

But he remembered. He tried to keep it from showing and maybe that had worked when he was Gabriel Reyes, and he had control over his body. But Reaper's decomposition sped up when he was stressed, and as Gabe listened to her debrief on the Helix investigation, he was wisping off bits of his body far more than normal. 

 

"Okay," he said when she finished. "Leave your report with me. It's a start." He pulled out his holovid and began to flip through that, pointedly ignoring Sombra. She cleared her throat. 

 

"Uh, boss–"

 

"I have work. I don't have time for small talk."

 

"Okay, but Gabe–"

 

"What, Sombra?!" He slammed the holovid down and glared at her. 

 

"Your, uh, ear. It's about to fall off."

 

Gabe brought his hands to the sides of his head carefully, and found confirmation on the right side. He sighed, closed his eyes, and yanked. Sombra curled her lip at the dull, bloodless sound it made. 

 

"Gross, man." 

 

"You can leave now," he said. His voice was hoarse and his fist was closed. Black smoke steadily trickled out of the tear where his ear had been. His skin couldn't get any more wrinkled and his hair couldn't get any more gray than they had when the Swiss base had gone up. But he suddenly looked so much older to Sombra. 

 

And she knew how badly the rot hurt him. 

 

She walked around his desk and opened his bottom drawer. He turned his chair and watched as she took out a roll of bandages, a bottle of disinfectant, and an autostitcher. 

 

"I can do this on my own," he told her. She snorted. 

 

"Yeah, and you do a shit job of it. I remember the kneecap incident. I know you're not going to go to Moira, so just shut up and let me keep out the gangrene."

 

He turned in his chair again so his right side was facing her. She lined the autostitcher up at the start of the wound, and it began to calibrate. 

 

"How is Widow?" Gabe asked. Sombra almost dropped the machine. 

 

"Fine," she said. "Good," she corrected, as she grappled with the question. "She's still very... subdued. But she's enjoying what she gets."

 

"Has she had any more outbursts?" Gabe asked. He hadn't changed his tone from the analytical, inquisitional one he had used during her presentation. Sombra ground her teeth. 

 

"No," she said. "But even if she had, it'd have been worth it."

 

"It's easy to say that when it's not your gut she's kicking in."

 

"Have you seen Widow? I'd let her step on me any damn time." He ran a hand over the left side of his face and she smiled. The machine in her hand hummed along, sewing up his dead skin bumpily but steadily. 

 

"I wish you would take this seriously," he said. 

 

"I am." She hesitated. The autostitcher reached the end of the wound and she dabbed some disinfectant on her sleeve. She wiped it over the freshly stitched cut. Gabe hissed and squirmed. 

 

"I told her I loved her," Sombra said. Gabe stilled. 

 

"She can't love you back," he stated after a moment. "Even if you let it lapse. The basic suppressor signal of the chip is still there. As long as it's in her brain, she's never going to really feel."

 

"Yeah," Sombra said. "I know." He turned to look at her, the red lights behind his eyes pointed straight at her. She started to unroll the bandages. 

 

"Then why...?"

 

"I'm okay with it," she said. She pushed Gabe's head down a little, so she could wrap over the crown of his head and so the red lights were off her. "I know she's giving me the most she can give me. That's all I can ask of her. More than I should ask of her, really. She wants to do more and it hurts her that she can't. But she stays, and I love her. So it works."

 

Gabe did not reply. She fastened the bandage neatly and he lifted his head up. 

 

"You deserve better than that," he said. "You should be with someone who loves you."

 

She looked at him, in his office in the headquarters of a terrorist organization, and remembered the old one she had flipped through surveillance stills of. It had been filled with pictures of his family, of his team, and that one of him and Amari and Morrison that she had found in his holovid's trash file after the Shrike incident. She looked at his desk. It was empty aside from his holovid and the medical supplies she had put on it. For a man whose body was in a constant state of flux, he was terrible at dealing with change. 

 

"Maybe," she said delicately. "But this is what I got. And I'm good at working with what I got. And I'm good at liking it."

 

Gabe touched the part of the bandage where his ear had been and shook his head. "Just think about it, Sombra," he said. "I don't want to fight you."

 

He meant it as a comfort, not a threat, but that made her more uneasy. So she just nodded. That seemed to satisfy him, in any case. He put the supplies away and Sombra frowned as black smoke dripped out the sides of the bandage. 

 

"How long is it going to take for you to get a new one?" He looked up quickly and she motioned to her ear. "I mean, no offense, but you look like you could use a pick me up on the whole."

 

"I'll be fine," Gabe said. He didn't meet her eyes, and stared into middle distance instead. "I'll find something." 

 

Sombra wasn't quite sure why he felt the need to lie. She had killed her fair share of someones, for many reasons other than survival. She shrugged. 

 

"Alright. Just let me know if you need anything," she said. She started towards the door. 

 

"Sombra?"

 

She stopped and turned back to him. He looked so old again. 

 

"Thank you," he said. There was a lump in her throat and she nodded. 

 

"Don't mention it," she said. "Just let me know. Anytime you need me."

 


End file.
